For the Love of Anna
by his-little-troll
Summary: Kristoff dreams terrible dreams. A voice calls him in the darkness. The cold holds him hostage. For the love of Anna, he'll endure. Kristanna.


For the Love of Anna

_**In your tears, and in your blood; in your fire, and in your flood,**_

_**I hear you laugh, I heard you say: I wouldn't change a single thing.**_

Part 1: Introduction

_Kristoff…_

The whisper echoed through the dark. Where was she? It spun around him, coming from all directions.

_Kristoff…_

He pivoted his head, unable to move. The darkness cleared but it was too late. She was covered in ice, terror frozen on her face. He tried to reach her. His hand stretched. Elsa appeared, accusing. Her eyes bore into his as she sobbed. He couldn't find Sven. All he wanted to do was get out. The cold pressed in on him. It filled his bones, slipped through his patches to wrap around his skin. He couldn't move.

"Kristoff!"

The loudness of the call cut through his dream, forcing him up in the seat of his sled. He had fallen asleep waiting on Sven to finish his carrots. His feet were propped up, and he hurriedly dropped the boots down before she made a fuss about it. His head was pounding. His heart was racing. He had to wonder if he was sick.

"Kristoff, what happened? You were…" Anna turned red. "You were yelling." His brow furrowed.

"Nothing. Just haven't been sleeping well lately. I think the colds getting to me." She said nothing, but her look said enough. The cold was his life.

"Ok, well. Elsa wanted to invite you to dinner." She was looking down at her feet and he had to hold in a chuckle.

"Ok. I'll be there—" He jerked his head around, noticing the absence of grunting and antlers. "Where's Sven?"

"You've been out here a while. One of the Stablemen took him in before he came and got me." Kristoff closed his eyes and tried not to groan.

"Sorry." He clamored out from his sled and felt familiar aches and pains. It had been a while since he'd slept on anything so hard.

"Kristoff, dress nice. We've got a surprise for you." Her smile was soft and unsure. Before he could react she jumped to him, placing a warm kiss on his cheek. The heat of her breath made his heart skip. She was safe.

He found a loose shirt and his least patched pants. Stuffing thick socks into his usual boots, he was too distraught to think about the waiting surprise. He'd had nightmares before. His entire childhood had been marked by nightmares. This one was different. This one felt too real. He could still hear the quiet call if he closed his eyes. Would that whisper ever leave his ears? He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. Not sleeping at night wasn't helping either. Today he had ruined three perfectly good ice blocks with poorly placed picking. If he didn't straighten out his schedule soon he'd be making more permanent mistakes.

Nightmares of Anna had begun not long after the Thaw. Once he realized she was an extended part of his life, he replayed her death over and over in his dreams. He had thought that once he was around her more and realized she was ok that the nightmares would go away. They did not fade. They grew stronger and more frequent the cooler the weather became. At first he thought he was having a temporary relapse. Now, he was sure it was a real problem.

He peeked around the corner as he headed to the dining hall, taking a moment to breathe deeply and try to force himself awake. Steadied, he walked into the room, back straight and face attempting calm. Anna sat at the top of the table with Elsa. Two strangers sat across from them, old and wise faces peering at him with odd expressions. Something about them tugged at his memories.

"Hey, Anna. Queen." He bowed briefly, trying to keep his eyes from staring at the couple. Anna patted the seat beside her. His usual seat. When he sat, Anna squeezed his hand. He wasn't sure, but he thought she expected him to say something.

Dinner was served quickly. Anna and the couple shared concerned glances, but Kristoff didn't know what they had to do with him. Tension built around the room as forks clinked and knives ground. The food tasted dry in his mouth. His headache was beginning to strengthen, pounding against his temples. He felt as though something was trying to burst from his chest. Anna finally stood as the plates were being gathered. He noticed for the first time that she had dressed exceptionally well in a pastel gown and natural lipstick, her hair pulled back into a fancy bun.

"Kristoff, I know you grew up alone and that the trolls are your family. You've never wanted to talk about it." She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to explain. "I knew you'd talk about it when you were ready. I wanted to be prepared, to at least know their names." Something clicked in Kristoff's mind. His face paled, and he looked at the couple again.

Brown eyes. The man had a large nose. The woman's hair was still blond, the silver only beginning to sneak into the twists of her braid. The man's mustache shot through his heart. He forced himself to keep his hands steady. His parents were dead. He remembered them dying. Anna was still talking.

"…the records didn't have much on the family, but everyone has to be registered in the royal books. I thought I would find an obituary or something, explaining how they died. Instead…" Anna hesitated. "Instead, I found an address. Kristoff Bjorgman, I present to you Aine and Thomas Bjorgman, your parents who have been looking for you for 13 years." She bowed to them, a surprising sight for a Princess.

The strangers looked at him hopefully. His head was spinning. He remembered them dying. They fell in the ice. He had been running away from them when the trolls found him and Sven. He remembered. But suddenly he wasn't sure what he remembered. The memory of his mom's screams seeped away, turning from cries of fear to a playful call of his name. He remembered seeing the ice on the grass. His head felt like it might explode. He remembered mourning for them. His heart was speeding. He heard Anna gasp, felt her warm hand on his.

"Kristoff, what's wrong?" A woman was crying. Those cries sounded so familiar.

"I'm sorry, I have to go." He darted around the table, rushing back to his room and closing the door. He was surprised not to hear an immediate knock behind him. Anna was leaving him alone. He didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed.

He saw them die. The ice was thinner than they'd thought. The summer had been particularly warm, and this spot had been harvested last year. They were heading to a new harvest when he heard a loud crack. Only now he couldn't hear that crack. He had always been able to hear it before, whenever he remembered his parents. He had forgotten their faces long ago. Dark hair and a mustache stood out to him. Clothes just like his blurred and clarified intermittently. The cap was all he had from his father. He had mourned for them. He remembered mourning for them.

He heard the soft knock at his door long after the sun had set beyond his window. He made a noise he hoped sounded like approval. Anna slid into the room. She did not speak, only moved around his bed to lay beside him, wrapping her arms around his torso. He could hear her sniffles. He wanted to feel bad for ruining her surprise, but his chest felt hollow and cold. Even Anna's warmth did not permeate his skin.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Her cheek rested against his shoulder. Her apology surprised him.

"You thought you brought me my parents. Why would you be sorry?" Anna stiffened, but did not argue.

"They… Kristoff. I was so caught up in how I would feel if my parents were brought back to me, I didn't realize how confusing and difficult it would be for you." Something about the phrasing prickled his skin.

"They aren't my parents, Anna. I… My parents died. I was there. I saw it." Anna remained rigid.

"I'm so sorry Kristoff. Maybe there's something wrong… Our records may be off. Maybe their son is a different Kristoff." She didn't sound convinced.

"I can't be their son, Anna. I just…" He blinked out the moisture in his eyes. Images battled in his mind. Images of a little boy wondering off, ignoring the mother's call behind him. Images of two grown adults gasping and clawing at the ice. A picnic by the tree-line prepared by his mother, while he hauled ice beside his father and the other men. A deafening crack as Sven pulls him away. A laughing afternoon showing off his ice block to the other men. A silence filling the air as no one helps his drowning parents. Neither story adds up. He tried to hide his shaking.

"Shh. I'm sorry." She was crying again, but this time she sat up. The shift left a dip in his bed. "Do you want me to go?"

He thought for a long while. The hollow in his heart didn't care whether she left or stayed. But the part that shivered needed her warmth with him. "Please stay." The request was quiet enough to be ignored if she wished. He was relieved when she lay back down with him, running her hand up his shirt to massage his bare chest. The contact left a tingling sensation, lulling the roaring thoughts in his head to a dull point. Eventually, she coughed and tugged him over to face her.

"Kristoff, I think you need to meet with them. They are very convinced that you are their son." Her blue eyes held his. He wanted to be angry at the suggestion but he couldn't find enough in him.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." His body wrapped tighter as he tried to shove the questions away.

"Ok, we won't." Her voice was hushed.

She pushed his shirt up, pulling the light fabric over his shoulders. Her lips pressed tentatively over his heart. Heat spread from her trail of kisses across his chest. Her lashes were still wet as they brushed against his skin, the juxtaposition of cool and hot making his breath hitch. Her kisses climbed up, her body shifting over his. Silk dragged against his skin. He felt the warmth of her through her dress and suddenly wished she wasn't wearing it. He needed to feel her fire. He needed to feel her.

The blue fabric was still cool from the winter chill in the castle. The whisper returned unbidden. His fingers fumbled in panic, searching for the strings to the bodice. Impatient, he ripped the dress away, cupping her newly exposed breasts in his hands. She gasped, an indignant sound that he feared had more to do with her destroyed dress. He didn't want to be reprimanded. He just wanted to let go.

He lowered his head, nuzzling her neck, rubbing his thumb over the rosy pink fire in his palm. She moaned and arched. He could see the red spreading from her cheeks. His rough mouth continued down, nipping at her collarbone, his tongue dipping in her valley. Her heartbeat sped. His eyes drifted closed to savor the sound before his tongue flicked her nipple. This time her gasp sent a shot of pleasure through him. Her hands tangled in his hair. Her skin was soft under his hands. The fabric of her underthings didn't stand a chance as he pushed it to the side, revealing flaring hips and a tuft of flaming hair. Her fingers pulled him back, forcing his lips to hers. He answered hungrily, sitting her hips on his. She rolled against him, and it was his turn to moan. She was a flame on his body.

Her hands fumbled with his pants before pulling them away. They sat together, bare. He pulled her back down to him, kissing her hard. Their tongues danced, his fingernails moving down to dig into her back. He felt her breath escape onto his cheek. They moved, neither sated. She was slick over him, testing his limits as she hovered uncertainly. She had never been on top before.

He guided himself into her, leading her hips slowly. Her pink cheeks deepened to cherry red, her eyes growing stormy. She started with his lead, moving minutely and sporadically until she found her own rhythm. When she did, she leaned back over him, pushing his hands behind his head. Her breasts bounced against his chest, her body taut and slick. The smell of flowers mingled with sweat. Heat began to build, the sensation travelling through his limbs. Her breathing was growing rapid. He could feel her tightening, drawing her name from his breath. She was warmth against his cold.

His pulse quickened. His hips pressed into hers, and his hands struggled free. Her mews were interrupted as he pulled her face to his. The two of them finished together in an explosion of breath and heat and power that pulled them together. She was life in his winter.

They lay together for a long while after. He stroked her hair, rubbed her shoulders, hoping she'd sleep before bringing it up again. This was Anna, though. Her tenacity was almost legendary.

"Kristoff, if you won't see them, then we should go to the trolls. Maybe they have some answers."

He continued to run his fingers through her hair. He felt her sharp inhale. She was waiting on an answer. There was no use in fighting it. She'd eventually force him to face this. "Then stay here. Stay here in Arendelle where it's safe."

"I'm not letting you do this alone. I'm going with you. There's nothing out there we can't handle."

He remembered her name on the wind. He remembered searching for her. He couldn't do it again. "No Anna. You have to stay here. I can't…"

"Can't what?" Her voice squeaked. Right now had not been the best time to deal with this. He could feel the headache in his temples again. He said nothing. What could he really say to make her understand?

She stood up to leave, only to realize her dress was unwearable. With a huff she sat on his bed, back rigid. "I'm going with you. Princess's orders. You'll not deal with this alone. I know how that is, and I'm not letting you go through it again." She didn't face him. Her cheeks were red, but her mouth was set in a line that told him she would not budge.

"Fine. But you have to do what I say." She lay again, staring at the ceiling.

"Kristoff… Are we ok? I mean, earlier…" She fiddled with her hair. "Earlier you were yelling my name, but you sounded mad. Or, well, not mad. But upset. Hurt. Did I do something wrong?"

"We're fine Anna. You did absolutely nothing wrong. It was just a bad dream, that's all." He wrapped her in a hug again, feeling her skin against him. That night he slept with the scent of flowers and sweat still hanging in the air, her heat keeping his nightmares at bay.

Part 2: The Trolls

They spent the better part of the next day on the mountain. Anna had been an hour late meeting him after breakfast, a crumpled paper in her hands that she'd refused to show him. When he'd asked if she'd gone to visit the Bjorgmans she had ignored him. Tension built between them as they'd climbed, the air growing colder and thinner. Anna's shoulders began to shiver as another gust of wind blew through them.

"Here. I packed this just in case." He pulled out a blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. "I didn't want you getting too cold." She smiled for the first time that day, and he felt some of the awkwardness lift.

"So, do you visit them often?"

"No. Not anymore." He looked down at his pointed boots. He could feel her eyes drilling into him.

"Why not? I mean, you probably come by here all the time right?"

"I just haven't had much time. Being Royal Ice Master takes up a lot." The excuse was flimsy. She knew all too well that he spent most of his time around these very trees. In all honesty he could have gone and visited them.

"Oh." Her footsteps stopped crunching behind him.

"What?"

"Are you ok? You haven't been acting very… well, ok." She was fiddling with her hair again.

"I'm fine. Really. Like I said, I've not been getting much sleep lately."

"It's because of me, isn't it?" Her hand subconsciously went to the spot that used to be white, her teeth nibbling at her lip.

"No." He put his finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his.

"It is. You've been having nightmares about me. I've heard you before." She was looking at him with the same determination from last night.

"You are persistent, aren't you?" He grinned at her, breaking the grim line of her lips into a small smile. "They're just dreams, Anna. I can handle dreams."

"Of course you can." She turned her head and kissed the inside of his palm. "Race you to the trolls!" She took off at a run, the blanket falling forgotten into the snow.

He sprinted after her. The snow swirled around him in an eerily familiar way. Sven dashed beside him, his tongue chasing snowflakes. Kristoff could fight the clawing panic at first, Anna's bright hair visible through the hiking flurry. Without warning her bright colors disappeared, vanishing in a wall of white and cold. The chill started clawing through his skin, soaking his thick fur-lined clothes. He could hear his whispered name, feel the pressure of the white around him.

"Anna!" She hadn't been far away. She had to still hear him. "Anna!" Her red hair was visible again, her loud colors beaming back at him as she returned. He dashed to her, his breath echoing in his ears. "Don't run off like that."

"Why? It's not like I don't know where we're—" She noticed his ragged breathing. "Hey, I didn't even go very far. Don't freak out."

"Look, just… stay by me." He managed a smile at her, breathing heavily through his nose.

"Ok. But hurry up. We're almost there, the steam pockets are up ahead." She was excited, skipping towards his family like they were hers. The sight was endearing, but it didn't lessen the rock in his stomach. What would they say?

Before he had come up with a suitable way to bridge the question, he was faced with the sight of several boulders covered in moss. He recognized them right away, watching them roll and shift until they stared at him with round, unblinking eyes.

"Kristoff's back!" The same as always, they scrambled around, tugging and hugging and jumping on him until they'd practically knocked him off his feet.

"Hi guys! Anna's here too!"

"Did you decide to get married yet? We'll go get Grand Pabbie!"

"Uh, no. Not yet. But it's probably a good idea to get Grand Pabbie. We have some questions to ask." Anna took charge, her natural kind nature taking over his burden. The thought of letting her handle this bothered him.

"Anna, I'll ask, ok?" She nodded, pink flushing across her cheeks. She stepped back self-consciously, holding his hand in hers. The thick gloves between them lessened his comfort. "Someone please get Bulda. She needs to be here, too." Bulda had been the one who'd taken him in.

The trolls eventually came tottering around together, Grand Pabbie's face already twisted uncomfortably. Bulda looked clueless, and Kristoff felt his heart flip. They would be furious with him for even asking about this. The troll children and their parents were staring at him expectantly. Whatever words he was about to say were catching in his throat. His face was turning red. Anna coughed beside him and he felt his free hand slide through his shaggy hair.

"Yes, Kristoff? What would you like to know?" Grand Pabbie was soft-spoken, his staff wobbling just slightly.

"I'm here… We've—well, Anna, I mean—found some… a couple. They think they're my parents." Bulda's hands were twisting. Pressure was building in his chest again. "My name is crossed out in Arendelle's records. They…" The confession fought past a knot in his throat. "They look like them." A silence settled around the group.

"Now, Kristoff—" Bulda's stony stubby hands reached out to pat his arm. He pulled away. Anna's grip tightened on his.

"Bulda, we knew it would come to this. The boy should have been told long ago."

"Should have been told what?" He looked from Bulda to Pabbie, the two of them glancing nervously away.

"You appeared on the night the King brought Anna. You must have wondered far from home." Bulda had taken it upon herself to speak. Big fat tears leaked over her eyes, leaving dark lines on her stone face. "You were so cute and alone. So brave." Kristoff felt his head shaking, almost as if the action belonged to someone else.

"I checked your memories, and saw that you had run away from them a good bit ago. They hadn't found you yet and you were dirty. We just wanted…" Grand Pabbie faltered.

"One of the troll babies had fallen ill. Bulda's child wasn't going to make it." A male troll spoke up, just as uncomfortable looking as the others. He heard Anna sniffle beside him.

"So you decided to just take the first kid that wondered across your path?"

"Kristoff, you came to us for a reason. You didn't just happen across us; we're far from the beaten path of most travelers." Pabbie's voice was stern, strong, attempting to cut through his growing panic. "It was written in the deep magic that you were to be here, in these mountains with us when…" Pabbie faltered again, looking from Anna to Kristoff.

"When what? When you needed a surrogate?" Anna tucked hair behind her head, and he knew his rashness was making her uncomfortable. She didn't dare say anything to him. He knew she understood, even if she sympathized with the trolls more than he did.

"No. When Anna's heart was frozen, you would be the one to lead her here." He heard Anna whisper 'love experts' and he was torn. If he hadn't been able to bring her here, she would have died. "I had to follow fate. I should have told you months ago. Bulda cares for you as a mother would."

"But I had a mother. A mother who cried. I saw them die, Grand Pabbie. I mourned for them. You put those memories in my head, you made me suffer that way."

"It was the only way, Kristoff. The fates insisted you had to be here, with us." Something was missing from this explanation. Pabbie and Bulda were keeping something from him. Even through his now pounding head, he recognized the veil of secrecy hindering the conversation.

"Why? What was so important you had to do this?"

"Hans. You and Anna had to stop him. She would have died without you to bring her here, without your love to take her to Arendelle, to Elsa. Hans would have killed Elsa. His reign would have been long and terrible once he no longer had to impress her people. His arrogance would have taken Arendelle to terrible places." Kristoff was torn. There seemed to be good reasons, but he had been filled with nightmares from their meddling.

"Kristoff, I loved you like a son. I understand if…" Bulda's tears made his anger fizzle. "I understand if you don't want to see us again. But I just wanted to make it the best for you." Her rock fingers twisted in her palms, her head bowing down.

"Bulda… Don't cry. Please. I don't hate you. I mean, I should. I have every right to. But…" He turned towards Anna, who seemed incredibly awkward. "I can't change it. And despite the horribleness of what you did, there seemed to be some kind of reason for it." He closed his eyes, trying to think of what to do next. "Can you… Can you give me my memories back?"

"Of course. We beg your forgiveness, Kristoff." Pabbie bowed, knocking his staff onto the stone and moss ground. Anna watched as Kristoff's memories swirled in the fading light. Images of a young blond boy, laughing with his mother in a rickety cabin, twirled into a ball of shifting colors. A father laughed as his son pulled an uneven, misshapen block from the freezing water, steadying him as he nearly toppled over. He slept by the fire, holding his new friend, his new responsibility, in his arm. These and several other images gathered before Pabbie pushed them back to Kristoff's forehead, a strength slithering through his veins.

"Why did you remove these?" He closed his eyes and relished the freedom from the crack of ice and the gasping breaths of his parents. Their faces were so much clearer now.

"We tried to lessen the burden." Bulda and Cliff were sniffling together, though her tears had slowed considerably since Kristoff's awkward declaration of understanding.

The tightening in his chest loosened. Anna moved closer to him, and he felt her lean towards his ear. Her whispered words of encouragement calmed his internal flailing. They spent another few awkward hours with the trolls before packing up and heading back home. He remained quiet the remainder of the trip. Only once they broke the boundary of Arendelle did he remember the piece of paper crumpled in Anna's hands.

"What was it? What was the paper you had earlier?" He stopped walking, her small body crashing into his at his sudden change.

"Oh. I had forgotten about it after… After everything." She fumbled around in her pocket, pulling out the mystery page and smoothing it before she handed it over.

His own face stared back at him, at least 15 years younger, his father's hat too big on his head. Kristoff Bjorgman was written in fancy, looping writing across the bottom. There was no color, and the page was well worn and yellowed.

"They kept it all these years. They want to get to know you Kristoff." She reached her hand out to his. He blinked away the moisture in his eyes. "Now look, I know you've got a lot to think about, and you're probably still confused, but they love you and they've been waiting for—" His mouth silenced her, pulling her closer, the paper still held tightly in one hand. A few straggling passers-by made indignant noises, but for once he didn't care.

"Anna, thank you. I—thank you." She smiled shyly at him.

"Would you like me to invite them to dinner again? Or, I mean, if you want to meet them by yourself, I understand. If not, the castles always open. I mean, we have to ask Elsa first, of course, but really, she'll understand. We have a lot of room and a lot of food, and she was so excited…" She seemed hesitant to bring up last time.

"I would like it if we could go, together, to their place." Anna squirmed uncomfortably at his suggestion. "What?"

"Well, they don't exactly have… I mean, they've been looking for you for so long. They kind of…" She wrung her hands, her face turning red.

"They're not homeless are they? I mean, I know I've been, but they shouldn't—"

"They're not homeless! I mean, not any more. It's difficult to explain. They're a lot like you." \

Part 3: Reunion

Kristoff entered the tidy cabin, surprised at how similar it was to the one from his new memories. The shape was wrong, and the fireplace was in the wrong place, but all the little touches were the same. The handmade rug sat under the small table. The chairs still wobbled. His mother's handmade pillows still sat on the dark couch. Everything still smelled of pine and the crisp cold air of winter. His mother sat across from him, her shawl clutched warily over her top, her thin fingers shaking as she tried not to stare at him. They were waiting on her father to come back from the market. Anna was beaming excitedly, oblivious to the tension permeating the room. Finally, the door burst open and Thomas Bjorgman stepped in, his outfit covered in snow and his face covered by his neckerchief. Anna let out a quiet 'wow'.

"Kristoff?" The trembling whisper was muffled by the dense fabric, but he still heard it.

"It's me." He didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe he expected some kind of speech about how he was missed, or maybe he expected everyone to suddenly break into stories of how they'd searched for him. What he had never expected was for this grown man, who was as tall and as big as himself, to kneel before him and cry like a small child. The unabashed emotion let loose a flood, and suddenly the room was filled with the sounds of sobbing and sniffling.

"We thought you'd died. We thought we'd never see you again. We've been searching for so long. Oh god, son." His mother was hugging him, her arms thin and weak as she shuddered on his shoulder. His father had stepped back and was still wiping tears from his eyes. "Did you suffer? Were you alone?"  
"No, I…" Suddenly, he was struck with how bizarre his story sounded. He was abducted by trolls who changed his memories and kept him and fed him and loved him for 13 years so that he could save Anna and in turn she could save Arendelle. Oh, and now he was not just an ice harvester, but the first ever Ice Master. It sounded ridiculous.

"He was kidnapped by trolls, but I assure you, their intention was not to harm. They give their deepest apologies and know it can never be enough. They have sent these as gifts, and hope you may one day forgive them." She bowed once more to his parents. His dad blushed bright enough to show down to his newly exposed neck. In Anna's hands were crystals of all kinds, worth at least thousands. "They are not what they appear. In these crystals are held the moments you missed." Tears were falling once again as his mother and father gathered the stolen moments.

"How do we see them?" Anna breathed deeply and brought the crystals over to the fire.

"You have to trust me, they can be retrieved." She tossed one into the flame, and Kristoff saw him mom abstain from reaching for it.

Light exploded as the fire hit the smooth blue stone. Kristoff was returning home with Sven, his small sled piled high with small blocks of ice. He showed off each perfect cube to Bulda, who rewarded him with a necklace and a carrot. She tossed in another, and Sven was helping him fight off a group of troll children after a particularly rowdy hide-and-seek session. She tossed in another and they were teaching him how to read from the ancient scrolls. They spent the next several hours watching moments from Kristoff's childhood. From sobs to laughter, they relived a life lost. And when the fire was burning low, left only as embers, Thomas picked up each crystal and placed it inside a small jar, each one moved with care.

Kristoff and Anna realized it was becoming late after a hearty meal of meat pies and mashed root vegetables. The sun had set hours ago. Anna offered to leave without him, but the weather outside howled against their door. Though he was glad to have his parents back, the relationship was still odd and thin. The emotional trip had carried through the day, but with a lifetime between them, the conversation dwindled. So the two left with promises to return the next day.

Kristoff fell asleep that night hoping he was too spent, too exhausted for nightmares. Anna had gone to her room as she did almost every night. He had gone to his. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. His dreams had held nothing but blissful darkness, a mindless, visionless peace that didn't last. Before long, he could hear it.

_Kristoff…_

The whisper was softer still, yet more insistent than ever. This time he knew where he needed to go. Yet once he turned to find her, his legs wouldn't budge.

_Kristoff… _

He wanted to yell out for her, to tell her he heard her. He wanted to tell her to just hold on until he could reach her. Even when he opened his mouth to yell, no sound came out. The darkness cleared. She was standing just feet away, barely out of his reach. White curled around her ears, the jagged points of frost building on her cheeks. Her hands were clutched tight to her chest, the shawl around her already heavy with ice. Boots buckled under the shifting weight and winds. She couldn't seem to reach him. Clasped fingertips took on a bluish hue, the climbing cold encasing her legs. He stood hopelessly as she grasped the air in front of him, calling his name. He could feel her name ripping from his throat, but the sound wouldn't come. He watched ice slither over her chest, creeping up her neck to finally fill her mouth. Her expression was twisted into confusion and fear, her hand still grasping for him. Too late his lungs started working, and his ears filled with the tortured cry of Anna.

Small fists woke him with a beating in the chest. Anna was calling his name, dragging him from his night terrors. "Oh god, Anna." His throat was raw. He dragged her over the edge of the bed, pulling her small frame into a crushing embrace.

"Kristoff, I'm alright. I'm alright." She had managed to free an arm to stroke his hair somehow. He felt the chill in her skin, felt the bite of cold through her thin nightdress. His hands rubbed furiously at her arms and back, his breathing still heavy from his screams.

"I can't Anna. I can't lose you like this every night." She shot him a puzzled look, but did not respond. It was just as well, he couldn't have explained if he wanted to. Eventually his frantic hands stilled, and his breathing evened, but he wasn't the least bit tired any more.

"I'm ok, Kristoff. I will always be ok." Her fingers pressed onto his cheek, moving his gaze to hers. He felt foolish. His embarrassment was not reflected in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Anna." He buried his head in the crook of her neck. Flowers and summertime, always flowers in summertime. Even in the dead of winter she smelled like flowers and summertime.

"Don't be. Sometimes, I have nightmares too." Her voice was small, her cheek resting against his hair as her breath played over his skin.

"About Hans?"

"No. About the ice. I dream that it's happened again, and it's filling my heart and my lungs and it's hard to breath. I can't move my legs. I can't find anyone. And I die, there, all alone." He feels the shudder of her shoulders.

"I dream about that happening to you. You're just feet from me but I can't save you."

"You know what calms me down when I wake up?" She's running her hands over his back, and he realizes that he went to sleep in the clothes he visited his parents in. He wishes he would have slept in something thinner.

"What?"

"You're right over here. When I was crossing the fjord, I remember being positive you'd never hear me. But when the snow cleared, there you were. Looking for me. I saw you racing across the ice and I knew you'd reach me. I knew you'd save me. Even though all I could manage was that little whisper, you still heard me." Her voice fell quiet as she continued, and he knew she was reliving the memory. "If I hadn't saved Elsa, you would have saved me."

"You wouldn't have been able to live with yourself if you hadn't saved your sister."

"I know." The silence was comfortable, their issues laid out before them.

"They're getting worse." He hoped she wouldn't hear him, his words mumbled and muffled by her skin.

"I can tell. This is the first time Elsa's heard you." His neck went cold and he resisted the urge to check for frost. She wouldn't do that right now.

"Elsa?"

"She told me to make sure you were alright. She's worried about you. We all are. You've not been acting yourself."

"I'm sorry."

Anna laughed, and even if he didn't understand, the sound made him smile. "You're sorry? You've gone through hell and back, Kristoff. You shouldn't be sorry for being…"

"A coward?"

"Afraid." She pulled him into a kiss, slow and gentle. There was no hint of sensuality, only comfort. It soothed over him with like a balm. "It is human to be afraid, Kristoff."

"Not on the ice. Fear on the ice will get you killed. I…" He had almost said he knew from experience, but he couldn't really say that now. His whole life felt foundationless.

"Fear on the ice can kill, yes. But so can bravery. So can arrogance."

"Anna, you are a wise, wise woman." She blushed, the bright red glowing from the thin white of her nightgown.

"I've not heard that one before."

"You should. Everyday." He grinned at her, the adorable way her freckles clashed against the pink hue of her skin alleviating the vision of the dream.

"Oh stop it."

"Anna, if it was up to me, you'd hear compliments every hour of every day for the rest of your life." Her eyes softened, her hands stilled against his back. He realized the implications of what he said too late. "I mean, of course, eventually, if you want. I don't want you to think—I mean, I'd never force you to—"

"I understand, Kristoff. It was a sweet thing to say." She was smiling her caring, kind smile at him again.

The sun was starting to rise outside his window, the sky lighting into tints of purple and pinks, the sun burning bright against a silhouette of trees and ice. He already knew they'd be useless that day, and when Anna let out a yawn he knew whatever plans she had would be delayed.

"Get some sleep, ok. I'll see you when I get back."

"Where do you think you're going?" She was already leaned back against his pillows, her eyes drooping.

"To work, Anna. Official Ice Master and Deliverer, remember?"

"You can't go out there today, you've hardly slept a wink."

"I've worked on worse days than this."

"Not today you don't." She grabbed his hand, yanking him back to her with surprising strength. "You've got a busy schedule today, and it doesn't include slipping around on frozen mountains." He knew she was referencing his parents, and he couldn't help feeling his heartbeat speed again. This was a lot to get used to.

"I can't just take off work because I've got parents, Anna."

"No, that's true. But you can take off work because this is only your second day of having parents in over a decade. Now, lay down, we've got some heavy duty napping to do." She had already wrapped his arm around her. To his surprise she wiggled free and gave him a reproachful look. "That wool is dreadful to sleep in. Take it off."

He obliged, already feeling the need for sleep overriding his desire to go to work. Her soft nightdress felt warm and smooth against his skin, and her sigh met his dimming senses with satisfaction. He fell into a blissful dream, no nightmares chasing it away with the smell of flowers and summertime to keep him anchored.

Part 4: Reconciled

Their visits had gone well the past few weeks. The shock was beginning to wear off, though sometimes his mother still cried when he hugged her. They were beginning to enter a point of familiarity. Already he had invited his father back to the ice with him, the echoes of a memory of gasping, screaming, drowning pounding in his ears in resistance. Thomas's hesitance assured him that he wasn't the only one with bad memories. Even if his weren't as real as his father's. But the ice is where he had the best real memories with his family, where he learned to look up to his father, where he learned to be careful on the ice, to be strong with the saw, to be patient with the pick. He needed to revisit those moments. And ultimately, his father agreed.

Their first day on the ice together proved to be more than what he had hoped. His father's old skills resurfaced, and he saw a completeness that had been missing from Thomas's expressions when he would come home from his usual job at the market. By the end of the day, Kristoff had offered his father a job, and the two agreed to work together. He was healing his family's shattered pieces.

The idyllic reunion couldn't last. Kristoff's life had never gone that smoothly. He was leaving for work one morning when the heard whispers and shocked screams, a crowd gathering in the middle of town. The top of a staff swung over heads. Sven refused to budge when Kristoff urged him forward. His disgruntled snort and stiff shoulders said everything

"Sven, I don't want to deal with this right now. _But Kristoff, you knew they were going to show up eventually. _Yeah, but today? I have work today. _You always have work. _But today I'm working with my dad. My actual dad. _Grand Pabbie raised you. _After he kidnapped me. _Anna would be dead without him. _Ugh, Sven." His one-sided conversations with his reindeer no longer gathered strange looks. By the time he finished his argument, Grand Pabbie and Bulda had reached him, their hands wringing. Their crystals glinted in the sun, drawing attention from the crowd.

"Kristoff?" Bulda was hushed, staring at her hands folded on her waist. "We miss you in the Valley. We understand if you don't want to come back, but we wanted to make things right." She risked a glance up at him.

"I've just been busy. I met my parents. My dad works with me now. Look guys, I don't know what to do here. I grew up with you, but… You lied to me, my entire life. You kidnapped me. I mean, those aren't things good people usually do."

It was Pabbie's turn to speak up. "We aren't people, Kristoff. We bear a great responsibility to this land. It is ours to protect and serve. We are love experts. Love is a great power, a great burden. Without your love, Anna would have died. Without your love, Hans would have won. Without us, you would have never loved Anna. You would have never met her. We had to do what was necessary." 

"Why couldn't you have just made me forget them? Why couldn't you have just told my parents what you knew? Why did it have to be this way?"

"We did things the way we had to. We did not know your fate until you came to us. We are not perfect Kristoff, we did what we knew how." Bulda had spoken up, her voice still quiet. Her eyes were glistening.

"We would like to show you what would have happened without your kidnapping. We would like to help you understand." Kristoff looked at Pabbie for a while, thinking through the offer.

"It's not just me that needs this. Look, come to the castle tonight, after darkness has fell. You will explain to my parents why they are just now getting to know their son." He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice.

He had worked nervously beside his father that day, trying to come up with the way to tell him what he needed to. He knew they had difficulty believing his story about trolls, knew they wouldn't understand why he was giving his kidnappers a chance to redeem themselves. But he had known the trolls longer than anyone. He knew they weren't supposed to be bad. The two parts of his life needed to be reconciled. They had made him who he was. He couldn't just ignore them. When he finally told his father to come to the castle for dinner, he opted to leave out the trolls. His father had nodded happily, and continued on his way home.

When he told Anna she was ecstatic. She became determined to dress nicely. She had the cooks make a nice dinner, the cleaning ladies dust out the theatre, the seats checked for sturdiness. Her enthusiasm was unnerving. It did not help his jitters, nor the tremble in his hands. He didn't tell her that he hadn't explained anything to his parents. Or that the trolls were upset and nervous. Or that he had wondered around the ice for hours before coming home. Or what the trolls had meant by 'why'. Without all this knowledge, he couldn't blame her for being excited.

Dinner had gone by just as awkwardly. Elsa had left earlier in the day for trading negotiations, and while Anna had become comfortable around his parents and the trolls separately, together they were more than she expected. His parent's had stared at the trolls in disbelief at first, and now they glared at the group of rowdy children. He was regretting not telling them the true purpose of his invitation. All the plates were removed when dinner finally ended, and the entire group was rounded up quickly to the theater.

The troll children went surprisingly silent. The gravity of the situation dawned on him. Pabbie stood at the front of the room. His voice was clear and confident when he spoke, drawing the attention from around the room. Every face turned towards him.

"We were forced, over a decade ago, to make a decision that impacted the lives of every person alive in Arendelle today. Our decision was difficult, and burdensome, and it hurt many. But we are here to do to show why it was necessary. How things would have gone had we not intervened."

He pulled light into the room, his hands shifting and twisting until it filled the theater with the dewy grass and night sky of the Valley of Living Rock. Kristoff sat behind Bulda, watching Princesses Anna and Elsa as their parents made their own difficult decisions. Kristoff remembered this. Bulda had decided to keep him that day, a pat on his cheek and a grin on her face. Only, when the King and Queen left with their daughters, he followed them, bidding the trolls farewell. He returned to his parents, his mother dropping to her knees in relief. Anna looked at him in confusion. She wasn't aware of his presence at her pivotal life moment.

The scene continued, following Kristoff through a life remarkably like the one before Anna. He worked the ice, this time his father by his side. He went to their dilapidated cabin, happy despite the cold nights. Somewhere along his journey he met a girl, who was pretty and sweet and entirely not Anna. He felt her shift beside him and knew she was feeling inadequate. She always did when faced with the slightest reason. He squeezed her hand. Seeing him with someone else made him uncomfortable. As his relationship with this mystery woman grew, the not-him spent more time on the ice, more time away from home. His expression grew stony and stressed. His father and mother were strained as he grew more irritable with those around him. Simply not having Anna in his life affected him in a big way, it seemed. When the fjord froze over, he went home, to his parents and wife to wait out the storm. And it never stopped. They got word of the Queen's death through the other harvesters. None of them even mentioned Anna.

Months later war broke out, the new King conquering lands. Thousands died, and thousands more returned home shells of who they were. Kristoff was eventually called, along with the rest of the harvesters. After many hard battles and close calls, he returned home to his wife, her abdomen swelled and her eyes wide with fear. His life imploded in on him with a fiery vengeance. He lost his wife, he estranged his parents. Arendelle remained frozen forever, Hans's selfish heart leading it into disaster. Bulda sobbed at all of Kristoff's most terrible moments, his parent's looking at her with a tenderness he would not have believed they could feel. Anna even sniffled. He seemed to be the only one not crying. Something lifted from him, something dark and heavy and bitter. His anger dissipated. Yes, what they did was terrible, but not more terrible than this.

Grand Pabbie sat the moment the show was over, his arms shaking. He had to be exhausted from using so much magic in one night. His mission was accomplished, however. The animosity from before had vanished. His mother's eyes were soft, and she approached Bulda, leaning down to comfort the still sniffling woman. His father was shaking Pabbie's hand, the two of them talking emphatically about what would have happened. His parents had not been aware of his part in saving the kingdom. He had not been as aware of it until now. Anna's smile was warmer, gentler than it had been while she prepared.

"Do you forgive them?" The question was whispered into his ear, Anna stretching up to her tip toes to speak to him.

He pondered the question for a moment. It was clear now that he had followed the right path. That they had made a difficult, but necessary decision. It still stung that he hadn't been able to have life with his parents, but the alternative was enough. He couldn't hold this against them. "I do."

He confronted Bulda carefully. She smile. "I understand Bulda." She hopped onto him, her heavy weight nearly knocking him over. His eyes connected with his father's, the each understanding the other. These two parts of him would have to co-exist. It's simply who he was.

Bulda had spent the next few hours talking to his mother about Kristoff. He had never held this level of attention. It was exhausting. After everyone left, the castle sounded incredibly empty. He was entirely ok with it.

"Kristoff, I… Thank you." Anna's hand reached to his shirt, forcing him to her.

"I didn't do anything." Nothing about his family reunion had benefited her. In fact, she had been stuck with loud, heavy, clumsy trolls racing through her house, and a roller coaster of feelings to deal with the through the night. She continued to hold him, the empty hallway still and cool.

"Thank you for loving me, Kristoff." His cheeks went warm.

"Always, Anna. Always." He may have nightmares. He may have gone through hell and back. He could handle it though, for the love of Anna.


End file.
